


✘Fαιɾყƚαʅҽ ✘ │Alastor │

by Elysian90_0



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust Being Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angel horny, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Charlie is a good bean, Cinnamon Roll Charlie Magne, Eloahbad, F/F, F/M, Hazbinhotel, Hell, Husk like Angel horny, Kinda, Lilith and Lucifer, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Nifty like cleaning, Not too bad Alastor, Original Character - Freeform, Other, Protective Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Vaggie protective of good bean, Violence, bad stuff, explicit - Freeform, explicit imagery and text, grotesquestuff, hardcorestuff, itry, just Nifty like cleaning, meanlanguage, nm, pleasedontmindmyterriblewritingskills, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28776954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysian90_0/pseuds/Elysian90_0
Summary: Emotions have always been eccentric and compelling, yet twisted at times with temptation and a bitten apple in the end. So, what happens when you take one more savoring bite?With a naive and thriving temperament, Hazel centralized her life around one thing for the vast majority in her afterlife- the ambiguity of her past life. Remote from her bonds and mortal vitality, she, herself, stirred a spark in all of Heaven, Hell, and Earth with just a peculiar apple.However, there was a particular entity that tugged the strings of everyone in the background.✡✡✡║║Disclaimer║║♦ Kinda short story♦ I obviously do not own Hazbin Hotel and its contents besides my own creations such as the characters (e.g, Hazel) in this AU (also my story). Shout out to Viziepop.♦I as well hope you know this is a mature book, seeing as this is from an adult cartoon. Meaning: this will surround vulgar language and phrases, violence, sexual themes, and similar topics. ꌇ♦ I am not the best writer ✎(please know that).♦ I will be updating whenever I can and in my free time outside of my inundating life.Thank you for viewing this and I hope you enjoy this.  シ
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) & Reader, Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader, Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie, Eloah, Happy Hotel - Relationship, Original Character - Relationship
Kudos: 11





	1. Wendacious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Happy Hotel encounters a few peculiar souls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just want to say thank you to anyone who's reading this or just skipping this and scrolling to the content, but I've been working on my story since last year and I'm just excited to exhibit my imagination through writing. Also, I usually don't proofread, so don't mind my grammar mistakes, passive misuse shit, etc. Don't youuu dareee call me out ):0, but criticism is appreciated and I'm always forward to learning something new every day. Enjoy:)))))

**──────────────────**

**SOON AFTER THE TWELFTH** extermination of Hell, or three days ago, a deep sheet of snow and coldness washed over the seven circles that surreptitiously and sporadically crumbled Hell's system and subjects.

It began as small and white spots that sprouted from the black clouds that waved above the born-demons and sinners, arousing excitement and incredulous behavior. The snow fell and fell, forming a thin platform of an inch, and soon, growing to five inches of heavy and deep snow within a day. The fun among the distracted people quickly became fugacious, and gradually became detrimental to the bodies and health of the citizens. Once they acknowledged it was no longer glistening white balls you could mindlessly throw at strangers without a care, but a sharp sting of coldness that seemed to inhabit your system and drop you dead in an instant if you weren't careful enough— something only the holy weapons could do— the denizens began hoarding equipment and clothing. And soon, they quarantined, afraid of bumping into snow that nobody pretty much knew about. Blithe in those who participated and coveted such unpredictable weather faded as snowdrifts that veiled the streets germinated, blizzards that seemed to wash over one's light but with so much efficacy than snow, and the terrible and unfathomable freezing temperatures in what is supposed to be a fiery infernal for the damned. The once clamorous streets with tipsy sinners and coquetry behavior present appeared to have vanished to a dead-silent and vacated miasma in the second day. On the third day, for the very first time of the existence of Hell, it's been the _most muted_ it's ever been since the arrival of Lucifer, and his brothers. Of course, multiple news stations began citing the abnormal weather on the first day, deeming it as a new weapon from Heaven to combat the overpopulation in Hell. Ultimately, it left Charlotte Magne, princess of this now Elsa kingdom and the next heir to her father's throne, reveling in possibilities of just what this all meant.

─────────────────────────────────

"In the beginning, God created the heavens n' the earth with suga, spice, n' everythin' nice...?" Angel Dust raised a brow, proceeding to riffle through the dirty pages of the withering book in his hands. As his slim and white digits turned the shabby sheets, his sights glimpsed through several wordings he wouldn't ever expect in a sacred matter. "What the fuck."

"Language!" Vaggie, standing behind him, scolded in a pricking tone, as she slapped the top of his head with a rolled-up newspaper. He jolted, dropping the book to the ground, and yelped, soon shifting around her, and securing his gaze with her singular, striking glare. Massaging his white-coated and fluffy head, the spider gave her one of his.

"Quit it, ya yappin' taco fuck!"

Her brows furrowed.

"Just read the goddamn book, don't make it any harder than it has to be!" Vaggie planted a hand on her pelvis, slightly gripping a piece of her neon-colored puffy sweater, and tightening her grasp on the newspaper. Tranquil swept through her once as her gray fingers encountered the silky and soft fabric, reminding her of a certain someone that given her such clothing.

She sighed a breath of relief before turning away from Angel who given her the bird once she did. Wending to one of the chairs sprawled in the room, she sat on it, whipped a leg on the other, and stretched the newspaper before her pupil minimized at the print media. Her hands quivered slightly as a small spectrum of coldness ran down her sides, a sick feeling germinating in her stomach once her pupil encountered the first thing she saw.

"Nifty, Charlie hasn't left, right?" She quickly called out to the short female cyclops who, engaging with her cleaning ministrations, was jovially humming while seemingly pricking sharp needles against the wooden surface of the hotel desk.

The cyclops red hair bounced as she turned to the moth demon, slightly heightening her brow.

"Nope! She's with Alastor, getting something, I think? I don't really know. Sorry, I'm just caught up with these small bugs! They're everywhere!"

"It's fine..."

It was far from fine.

Vaggie's worry and desperation only augmented each second when Charlie wasn't with her, being instead with a savage, yet charming demon that reeked nothing, but carnage and mistrust.

Her sights browsed the decaying palatial and spacious interior: the torn wallpaper surrounding her, the dust and cobwebs that seemed so frequent in every corner, the upside-down and crumbling furniture among others, and the crooked portraits and landscapes that hung loosely on the walls. Even the prudent mulling of the hotel's future couldn't occupy her thoughts as they would always linger back to Charlie's whereabouts. Yet, what she learned from the newspaper would only continue to shake her.

Vaggie's eye trailed to the left and right sporadically at the newspaper while nibbling on her lips, inclining it to her face while her brows creased each second. Her hands pushed it away as she slightly tugged her lips upward.

"Sixty-nine degrees? That's like the highest we've gotten so far. Hope it doesn't fluctuate like the other times." She spoke to herself, eye flickering a small brightness.

"Sixty-nine? Nice. Ya know, I didn't take ya for a newspaper gal." Angel intervened, wending to her with his salacious gait as his opaque blue jacket wavered over his petite ebony shorts. He quickly grew bored with the bible and coveted a new thing to do. If it wasn't sex or anything worth laughing at, why would he bother with such a thing? Maybe its stipulations were worthy due to how idiotic he thought God was for restricting the _lust_ of both Eve and Adam, but that was all.

Vaggie's annoyance only fostered from here.

"What do you want? You have bible study! Go. Do. It."

"Well, it got borin' toots, super fast. Don't like it. Maybe if you get me some of that hot pornogr-"

"Zip it." She scowled and turned away from him, her eye resting back on the light grey paper.

"And it's old too! Can't read it without feelin' like it's gunna rip." Angel began gesturing the fragility of the book.

"It's a bible, for crying out loud! It's one of the most sacred things Charlie's dad has, so respect it!"

"Sacred-my ass. That book is fuckin' decaying each second, have you even looked at that thing?"

Before Vaggie could respond, steps were heard on the fundamental staircase in the room. The soft thump of boots stepped on each creaky tread of the staircase followed by heavy ones clomping along. Both the spider and moth demon instantly shifted their head to the noise while Nifty augmented her killstreak, descrying Charlie with none other than the Radio Demon behind her.

She carried a stack of papers, her lips growing upwards, as Alastor donned his signature smile that Vaggie remarkably despised.

It hasn't been long since the first debut of the Happy Hotel happened, and recently received assistance from the grand Radio Demon, but it was far from reaching a five-star on _Help_ any time soon.

"Hey, guys!" Charlie beamed at the others, her legs now picking up speed down the stairs as she caught sight of them.

"Heya toots, ya lookin' good." Angel snapped a close-eyed at her, grinning.

Charlie was excited and for good reason. Today was the only-seemingly day her title as the princess of Hell could matter, having always been neglected and disrespected by the denizens. Not only that, but a way to promote the hotel and achieve outstanding progress that her heart desperately weaved around.

"Don't tell me that you're going, hun." Vaggie stomped from her chair with a minute frown. "Have you even heard of what's going outside?!"

Charlie wrapped her arms around her, tightly holding, before locking her eyeballs with her.

"The snow? It's fine, can't you see? I'm practically dressed up!" She protested, gesturing to herself. Granted, she adorned a puffy red jacket with apple prints, thick black pants, a blank beanie, and long fluffy boots with opaque crimson-colored gloves- far different from her business attire.

"Yes, the snow, the blizzards, and all that stuff, but there's something more dangerous going on." Vaggie began as she expanded the newspaper to her, pointing at a certain section of the print she first browsed. It was a text detailing practically the only recent battles waging in the city, between two peculiar demons, with pictures of them that seemed too vague to identify. "The weather may be OK, but if these people are fighting in the cold for this long, they could be hiding something! And the snow could practically kill you if you're not careful enough." Charlie squinted at the text, biting her lip as she grabbed the print media. "We're just going to have to stop our plans for the hotel, please don't do anything," Vaggie continued, rumbling her body through her shoulders. She inclined her face to Charlie's, subtly scowling in the direction of Alastor's and whispering. "plus, Alastor isn't the type of person you want to hang out with within this weather either."

His brows pointed downwards, still devilishly smiling, but now striking an ominous glare that Vaggie shut out. The static noises surrounding him seemed to have pitched slightly.

The princess only gave her girlfriend a warm and apologetic smile, pressing her black lips to the moth's forehead. Tint red streamed over the moth's cheeks, remaining to lock eyes with Charlie.

"Vaggie, I know this is a highly risky thing to do, but these are my people. I need to do something about this. It's been only three days and people are already being affected by the cold and snow. I know there's something going on, but we need to help others who are struggling, get through this. What's wrong with a little speech and song outside to show it isn't, uh, that dangerous? The snow may be cold, too cold, but I need to do my part as the princess of Hell. I hope you understand, but don't worry, Al will have my back, right Al?" She altered her attention to Alastor, raising a brow.

"There are literally people dy-"

"Yes, darling," He marched to the exit while shutting his eyes, his hands clasped behind him, before smirking at Vaggie from his interruption. "Now, it's almost time for your induction, let's get a move on!"

"Then I'm coming along with you!" Vaggie grunted, but conceded, as she clasped Charlie's hands. The corners of her brows creased upwards, roaming her eyes through her expression.

Vaggie has always been protective of Charlie, more than just a shield, but her spear as well, however, ever since she partnered up with Alastor, she felt as if he was supplanting her. A replacement. As if Charlie didn't need a mere moth demon when she had one of the most powerful demons at her disposal. She wouldn't ever succumb to what Alastor wanted, but she had a feeling she was slowly becoming mad.

"Then come on!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Can I come to-"

"NO!"

─────────────────────────────────

Charlie resided in the seventh circle of Hell, inhabiting the land with only her parents, and sinners who once had their chance on Earth, but failed to meet the standards of God, even if it was barely, or by a long shot, as most did. Yet, in all of Hell's existence, the Pentagram's city's plaza was one of the locations Charlie adored as the very _center_ of the pentagram symbol that shone above the damned in the sky, fixated at where the plaza was built. She admired the bright purple brilliance and shimmer flowing around in the outline of the pentagram, specks of stardust as her father told her, just simply hovering to be scrutinized. However, amidst the dark clouds that brimmed the crimson hue sky, it felt as if the symbol faded from existence, nowhere to be descried as long as this dreadful weather occurred. And so, she called for a rally in one of the elegant small housings that resided near the lovely and still growing vegetation the snow enveloped, and established chairs, a podium, drinks, and signs even. Charlie was dangling on the silver of hope someone would come that she could help so effortlessly.

The trio commenced their expedition after plowing a snowdrift that blocked the hotel's entrance, adorning protective gloves, headgear, scarves, and anything they had in their belongings that felt apt. Their limbs were gradually becoming rigid and slightly stiffed, the speed of their boots declining and difficulty supplanting already. The ebony clouds remained to discharge the same tedious white particles Charlie had outgrown on the first day, sojourning near Vaggie and dodging the meticulously designed snowflakes. The snow itself rendered as a dicey thing, in addition to the irregular cold. Even if these were the damned locals, proceeding with their second lives and still intimate with the dead, they were much alive and could feel the pain and absolute dread as the snow they held and touched burn out their candle within a few minutes.

The trio wasn't freezing to death, but it was chilling enough to arouse a few trembles down their spine, even for the Radio Demon who's been abnormally less loquacious and engaging since the whole vagary weather happened.

"Do you have your script? Where is it?" Vaggie questioned her lover, tugging on her profound sleeve as the triad strolled on the sidewalks, the curved street lamps illuminating feeble light on them. Alastor's static noises frizzled as he hummed, browsing the dead streets that occupied no one else, but them. 

"Yes, I do, it's just in my pocket. I'm just so shocked by how much it's been snowing, it doesn't even snow this much on Krampus day." Charlie muttered, gawking at the slightly shallow prints her boots grilled in the snow.

"Yea, kinda weird. I mean, right after the extermination, it just happened to fall on us, without any warning." Vaggie yielded her sights to the black vapor above, observing the white essences, almost angelic-like, gradually descend. Then her eyes marked the far distance of a vague white sphere with pure clouds and an enormous halo with cone structures that never became veiled by the clouds.

Heaven.

A lightbulb in her lit up.

"Dad said it was just Hell taking a new form, but I don't think so," Charlie admitted. She may have been naive, but not too gullible to have shrugged this abnormality away and take her father's word for it.

"Do you think the exterminators have anything to do with this snow? Or God? You know how everyone is fabricating things that they have something to do with this?" Vaggie inquired, lingering her vowels, and remaining to stare at the unreachable infringement.

"Exterminators? God? I'm not sure, maybe? Why would they do this then?"

"Perhaps they needed to try out a new weapon! Perceiving the numerous abominations and failures laid in this cesspool, they decided to handle it differently! It's quite amusing, really." Alastor addressed, cackling, while inclining his head between the space formed by the girls, his eyelids lowering and keening at them.

"I don't think so, but it's really strange," Charlie commented, slightly frowning at her mulling as Vaggie rolled her eyes at the deer demon.

"Well, let's just hope it ends fast," Vaggie shifted closer to Charlie, worry overcoming her face as she strived to hold her. "It's really painful for me to see you get cold, I-"

Alastor germinated his burgundy gloved hand between their turned faces, igniting a bright flame on his palm as he flexed his slim fingers, his static remaining to crackle, but only louder.

"Are you in need of warmth, my dear?" He cheekily smirked with creased brows, solely fixating his sights onto Vaggie as if he only sought for her reaction.

Vaggie was a hot-headed individual with a short temper, having patience as thin as a strand of hair, and Alastor was shortening it than ever before.

She scowled at his advance, pointing her brows as she brought Charlie closer to her side.

"Oh, I'm okay for now, it's not as cold as earlier. Thanks, Al." Charlie brought her hands up defensively, awkwardly smiling.

"Very well, dear." Alastor retrieved his hand, planting it behind him once again as he hummed a cryptic tune.

Vaggie continued with her thoughts before punching a glare towards the deer demon and turning around, Alastor's smile only lengthening at the sight.

Charlie and Vaggie continued pondering and reflecting on the snow, Heaven, and the hotel, receiving a few remarks from the pompous Radio Demon.

Within Alastor's later humming and crackles of static, the two covered tufts of hair on his head perked and twitched, detecting a fainted sound of frequency that reached from not far from them. His curiosity augmented, remaining to browse the streets with particular interest.

The tirade halted their discussion once they finally encountered the plaza to their right, attempting to trace the pathway the snow veiled.

The housing in which Charlie propelled the seatings, podium, and some refreshers became completely unidentifiable as an enormous ice crystal bled through the house with miniature ones in its vicinity. Pieces of the roof rested on the ground— decaying bricks sprawled among the damaged chairs and furniture in the interior. The windows had tumbled down in the exterior as glass shards, and the oriented cobblestone walls seemed to have melted into a dark liquid. Traces of coffee and water Charlie had left previously seemed to have vanished, and instead, crimson substances oozed from the snow in puddles and smeared on the remaining walls. The only thing standing was the sign she abruptly designed not that long ago. A brown cardboard piece with a handle that had the words, _Happy Hotel Help!_ written in colorful and big font and that was repeatedly stumped into the ground by Vaggie previously. Nothing else in the surrounding was tarnished, but her dreams and dying heart as her confusion pierced her. 

"What the hell happened?!" Vaggie screeched, eye-widening and twitching with gripped fists. Her eyeball locked onto the sight of the red pools and her grip loosened, remaining to gaze.

Granted, Alastor was slightly annoyed, yet engaged with the anarchy that had befallen onto Charlie's event. His nostrils could sense the richness of the blood that practically engulfed the area as if a killing spree occurred, bringing him to the pleasure of just how sweeter it would taste if it were on his moist tongue. It's as if he became bewitched by the temptation to thirst on such substance, yet his ears jerked once more, and harshly, his instincts thumping him into acknowledging how close the frequencies became.

It was first a warm tingling for Charlie, then shock, then anger as her body fell to the knees, absorbing the carnage. She gulped as her throat became dry, squinting at the structure that held some of her oldest memories be potentially irreparable. The amount of effort and meticulous planning for the betterment of Hell she yielded was gone. Her blood boiled for a moment until she finally noticed the smell of blood invade her nostrils.

What happened here?

"W-what is that?" She stammered, regaining balance and strolling to the fresh redness of liquid that puzzled her even more.

"D-don't go any further, Charlie!" Vaggie's voice cracked in fear, dragging the bottom of Charlie's coat and thrusting her back. "we don't know if they're gone yet. Stay behind me." She conjured her spear from behind and sprawled her legs around Charlie's figure as she scanned the dead ambivalence in the plaza.

No one was in sight.

Not one living soul resided in one of the buildings or area of the plaza— possibly the structures in the outskirts, but just who would have done this? To the princess especially?

Alastor's fluffy ears spasmed again to an almost painful and sore feeling, grasping the sounds of high-pitched screaming and a virile voice near their proximity. He couldn't mystify or identify what he heard, but he had a hunch about what was happening.

"Dear, it seems we have to come back another time. I suggest you return home with Vagatha. I'll solve the problems here." He shifted to them, his eyes slightly shivering as his hands gripped with each other, harder than ever before.

If the girls didn't know any better, it seemed as if he was resisting an urge.

"It's fine, I can protect her! We need to find the person responsible for this, what if they do it again?! We can't just let them roam free!" Vaggie bickered, exhibiting her sharp teeth towards him.

To Alastor, it was a notion of safety for the rest of them, but to Vaggie, she always found his actions and phrases to be undermining her in a secluded manner, and this was no different.

His half-lidded eyes locked with her one-eye gaze, one of the corners of his lips raising.

"My dear, did it ever occur to you that we would bump into those civilians from the newspaper?"

Vaggie's face immediately desisted the bitterness shown a second ago and became more of a nonplussed reaction. Her mouth hanging wide-open, pupil widening, and the corners of her brows pointing upwards as the impression came to her.

Were they so unlucky to have encountered the destruction of the demons who were the suspects of this eternal winter?

An enormous amplifying explosion transpired near them that rumbled their ground with robust force and nearly popped the trio's ear sockets, Alastor being in a fugacious daze. The eruption occurred behind one of the close buildings of the plaza, small bits of debris scattering to their side in synchronization with the snow.

They were very much close to the explosion, if not, in its proximity at least.

"What happened?!" Vaggie shrieked, whisking away the debris that had already fallen on Charlie and herself profusely, and ending up pushing it into Alastor's direction— perhaps unknowingly.

"What if a group of civilians is under attack by them? We can't just ignore it!" Charlie mulled, directing a finger towards where the explosion befell.

In the same direction, the head of a figure could be seen reaching closer and closer to the threshold of the rooftop of a building left of the destroyed housing, running, and soon plummeting into the deep snow with potency as if it was falling with the snow.

"Who's that?" Charlie mindlessly inquired, squinting at the vague figure while relocating her legs ahead in the deep snow.

"D-don't get any closer, hun, just stay with me." Vaggie languidly clutched Charlie's hand, securing her fingers around her wrist and propelling her backward.

Meanwhile, Alastor had surreptitiously stridden to one of the fading pools of blood near the thrashed building, swiping a finger within the deep red liquid as his eyes fixated on the gushy and dripping substance flow down his glove.

The figure came closer, adorning a white disheveled robe that had copious gashes and cuts with crimson-like liquid absorbing nearly the entirety of the clothing and exposed skin. The robe, billowing from the wind that considerably quicked, exhibited a fugacious sight of a sharp curve in the waist with incredibly long strawberry blonde hair that swayed behind and an absence of footwear.

It was a female running barefoot in the snow.

Barefoot? The squad thought.

The female tumbled and tripped on the snow, and regained balance within her running, yet seemed to be unaffected by the presence of the snow completely. Where were her jacket, scarf, and boots? She'd be dead in any minute now.

Both Vaggie and Alastor knew something was wrong, terribly wrong, and they all needed no part of it if they wanted to see another day of the shriveling coldness and snow. To Charlie, however, it was as if her prayer had been answered. Someone to finally help.

"She's bleeding! We have to help her!" Charlie ran in her direction, neglecting the warnings and dissuading thrown at her from both Alastor and Vaggie.

"Dear, please be a joy and retreat!" In reality, Alastor hadn't really cared about what was to happen as long as it would fuel his entertainment, yet he wasn't rash with every demon he faced.

Who was this peculiar demon?

"Charlie, get back here!" Vaggie reached a hand out to her lover, proceeding to sprint after her, yet she fell out of reach, already in the demon's vicinity. She gripped on her piercing spear with determination, swearing to protect her.

" _ **Get out, leave this place!**_ " The female figure shrieked at Charlie as she now struggled to advance through the snow and fierce wind, projecting a familiar powerful voice Charlie always would hear from her father whenever she did something disobedient as a child.

She jolted and halted, digesting the familiarity and the distinct quality from the female and now realizing the severity of the situation.

The closer she came, the number of scars, cuts, and punctures on her body became uncountable, having noticed other slashes coming into view. Her face was drenched in sweat, blood, and tears, a streak of faint red sheathing her cheeks as her robe was on the brink of slipping from her body by its horrid shredding.

She was, no doubt, plain exhausted and in terrible anguish, panting as the energy inside her was close to diminishing. The moment her eyes locked onto the people, the ladder in her imagination grew with hope, desperate to leave her situation.

" **HAZEL!** " A trumpeting and deep voice beckoned behind the female figure, instantly halting her legs as she shifted around in great fear and trembles, her breathing hitching.

Another frame emerged from the same roof she dived from. A white-haired male with some snow bits engulfing his top hair locks as he ornamented a bland robe with a few gashes and blood trickling down his snow-like skin. His eyes, pitch black, keened at the individuals that laid in front of Hazel, and began motioning his leather boots against the decaying rooftop of the building as he scowled.

The hope Hazel had felt magically vanished and became supplanted with terror.

This ominous man, unaware of the identities of the individuals below, could sense the swelling amounts of power radiating from them. Instantly, he resented these new people, fearing a rivaling force that would suppress his, yet his lips began to curve upwards, heightening a corner far more than the other— a deranged smug that remained writhing while it twitched. He deemed himself unreachable and far superior to what pathetic sinners can muster.

" _ **E-eloah! Come to your senses, d-did you forgot who I am?!**_ " Hazel roared, balling her eyes as she gesticulated to herself, beginning to step backward to the triad. Her voice cracked, shivering with absolute dread and fear.

He sank from the alleviated roof with ease, fixating his sights on the robed girl, but still wavering them between her and the trio.

The situation quickly became self-explanatory to Charlie and the others.

The blood Alastor briefly admired and relished had been leaking from the deep ingrains on Hazel's delicate skin, inflicted by no other than the man in front of her. He was, undeniably, captivated by the scent her blood carried, warming his body to an extensive heat that overwhelmed him with curiosity, and lingering craves to do something more with the stranger just as he tasted it. 

He capped the area of his mouth with a gloved hand while shutting his eyes, almost taking the entirety of his strength to usurp his temptation.

"Charlie, we should just go, this guy's obviously dangerous! I'm not too sure about the girl!" Vaggie frantically rocked Charlie's shoulders, frowning, and having dropped her spear to the floor while she observed the latter's absorption at the situation at hand.

"I-I don't know, I want to help, but I do-"

"Am I able to intervene?" Alastor interrupted, stamping in front of the lovers as he shifted his head to Charlie, eyes lowered, waiting for her response.

Now he was ready. Living a life of celibacy, it didn't take long to surmount his urges. 

"And where the hell have you been? Don't tell me you were drinking the blood on the snow, you freak!" Vaggie mindlessly accused, holding on to her beanie that threatened to soar away with the wind.

Charlie reluctantly answered, pressured with the responsibility that dictated a few lives, but especially theirs. She had to be strong, cautious, and responsible as the next heir of this pretense infernal.

"As princess of Hell and next heir to the throne..." Alastor waited, his anticipation getting to him of strangling the man in white. "Yes, you may, but go easy on him, please?" Charlie sheepishly nodded, biting her lip as Vaggie became appalled at her lenience.

It wouldn't erase her soft spot for the bad, however.

Hazel remained with her surreptitious walk, slowly shifting her legs backward, but at the instance, she overheard their conversation and conclusions, she turned to them with minimized pupils, precisely at the wendigo.

They continue to dwindle in size as she descried his Cheshire smile, sensing his corrupting aura conspicuously.

"No, let me handle this!" She pleaded, planting her hands up defensively while rotating her head behind to only view Eloah march closer and closer.

She was screwed.

Alastor simply raised a brow, his smile somewhat twitching due to his struggle of containing his laughter at how absurd she was being.

"Oh, dear! You are in no condition to continue, please step away-"

"Watch out!" Charlie uttered, pointing ahead of them.

Massive ice crystals pyramid suddenly targeted both Alastor and Hazel in a linear line, the crystals' cold and sharp tips practically yielding for penetration of the skin. The wendigo hurriedly laced his fingers around the girl's waist and conjured his infamous red mic staff, planting it in front of them that ignited a red spark. The spark sporadically bifurcated like a branch in a tree, ultimately forming some sort of burgundy-colored force shield around them, that saved them in the nick of time.

Well, at least they know who destroyed the housing.

Eloah proceeded to advance through, catching his adversaries off-guard and germinating such ice pyramids from simply the palm of his hand. Much to his dismay, Alastor's unexpected crimson bubble effectively obstructed the pyramids, even melting the tips of the crystals as it brushed against the surface and dissolving the thickness of the snow around them.

The white-haired man's tainted blood instantly fired up at the audacity of the deer demon, gritting his teeth with unfathomable, jeering anger.

"H-how did you do that...?" Hazel's breath quivered, tugging on her savior's puffy coat as her pupils expanded at his pulsating energy bubble with swelling burgundy particles.

"I advise you to join the other girls; I wouldn't want a pretty face such as yours to be hurt any longer!" Alastor remarked, his static crackling amidst his verbalization, while keening at her as he indirectly flustered the girl's cheeks as she stammered. The proximity of her cold, wet body and warm palpable blood instigated a lightening of tingles through his body, almost obtaining pleasure in touching her. Perhaps it was because she dressed in the blood he absolutely adored.

"But I can't just let him go! He's my friend, this isn't him! I'm really an ang-"

"It's quite fine, my dear. Just join the others, they'll take good care of you! I'll be halting this fellow for a while, true to what you're saying about him." Alastor attempted to assuage her distress, deliberately loosening his grasp around her as he prevailed more attacks from his foe. Yet, he ended up doing the opposite.

The weather, when the trio strode to the plaza, was eerily calm and peaceful, however, the snow had now disappeared, but gone unnoticed, and the wind stormed immensely against the individuals' clothing and hair.

"Excuse me! Hazel, is it? Come and join us!" Charlie projected her voice towards the robed girl, cupping her hands as she struggled to move in the abstruse snow and the harsh wind, her stature sustained by Vaggie's grip and determination

Hazel began lamenting, frowning at her invitation as she tightened her grip on the demon's coat. Would the feeble girl really rather perish than have the very person who given her innumerable scars that would forever pierce her body as a memory stopped for good? She pressed her forehead against the wendigo's torso, her eyes twitching as she ultimately pinpointed an option.

The longer she touched the deer, the more she realized how much she missed the warmth that bubbled within her. Would the girls be warm too? Her hazel eyeballs scattered the puffy fabric of the man's coat, noticing a streak of blood underneath the man's chin.

Alastor remained to shield Hazel, embracing her waist firmly as he began slashing the imminent small ice crystals with a conjured blade at the end of his staff. He slightly grew bothered, already knowing he would have halted this fight ages ago if it weren't for the persistence of the robed girl.

"Dear, as cuddly as you are, I nee-"

"I-is that my blood?" The girl inquired with a low tonality, almost awe-struck with the ideas and logic forming in her mind.

Alastor was immediately taken back, his eyes slightly broadening at her question. He blinked profusely, his smile somewhat shortening.

"Pardon?"

"I-I, just nevermind, but please listen to me! He's not evil at all! There's a shard in his right arm and I need to get it out of him, just help me ambush him!" She harshly whispered, her breath quickened as he regarded her propped bloody hands inclining near his chin. Alastor quickly moved his head as an idle movement, discerning her confession with incredulous views.

"A shard, you say?"

Eloah was inflating up with pure anger, twisting the corners of his lips inhumanely downwards as he surveyed the interactions transpiring with so tightly gripped fists that his nails pricked blood from his palm. His onyx eyes almost penetrated through the souls of the demons, absolutely furious at the inefficacy of his attacks.

" _ **Hazel! Hand me the rest of the fragments. You have no use for them when I'm practically in control!**_ " He roared, conjuring a sharp platform of ice from the palm of his hands toward the robed girl and deer demon, dashing on it as he formed an opaque blue blade out of thin air, wielding it with might.

"Hey, just what the fuck are you doing?! Get him, he's coming here!" Vaggie quarreled suddenly, pointing at the white-haired man swiftly sprinting as she ventured to remain still with Charlie.

Hazel had pressed her nose near the deer demon's neck, absorbing the scent, and immediately jolted her face from it, halting as her throat tingled with an imminent burning sensation and a warm feeling sprouting from inside. The deer demon swiftly glanced at her, observing sudden blood dribbling from her cold pink lips. She began coughing, her breathing accelerating, as she held onto the deer demon's coat for balance.

"Are you alright, dear?" He queried, slightly concerned for the fellow speeding towards them, and how he was going to do this.

Her face then directed towards the swollen black sky, eyes barricaded, as her back bolstered on his arm, arms free and wobbling in the air.

She became utterly limped in his grasp.

Alastor fluctuated his sights between the girl's tranquilized face and the deranged man's advance. Her indirect submission was a pleasant sight to behold, much to his egotistical pleasure, but he hadn't had the slightest idea about her sudden collapse. He dumped her body into the snow before dismissing his coat and scarf, and wrapping it around her.

There he stood, in his notorious outfit; a dark red tattered pinstriped coat and long dark maroon dress pants— that oscillated from the unrelenting gusts of the wind— and brown boots as he grasped on his staff.

Was he simply going to fight this man head-on without any gear for the snow and cold? Maybe the Radio Demon was crazy as they say. He was, but this only exhibited how much.

"W-what happened to her?!" Charlie quietly questioned, enveloping her mouth as her eyes watered for the girl's collapse.

"Shhh, don't look," Vaggie whispered as she shifted her away from the sight, bearing her head to her own cold, thick sweater.

Charlie was in utter worry and devastation by Hazel's sudden collapse, Vaggie- not so much, just as long as it wasn't Charlie. However, they both were confused about the deer demon's strip of clothing that would protect him from the ubiquitous snow.

Along with Alastor's proud induction, was a thriving lust to slaughter Eloah in cold blood, already silently cackling at the scenes unfolding in his head that were moments away from becoming a reality. Then he stopped, recollecting Hazel's desperate pleading.

Why did he stop?

He had no obligation to listen to her in the first place.

Eloah dived from the cliff of his terrace with a monstrous gaze, ready to swing his cutter against the deer demon, already in prominent gratification from the limped robed girl. It'd be killing two birds with one stone in a way. Just how he wants it. His murderous expression instantly fell and was replaced by bewilderment as his body became frozen in the air, burgundy-colored energy swiveling around his frame. Eloah's body then directly slammed against the snow with pillaging force, his limbs becoming rigid with the destruction he made, as he's magically struck upon the ice crystals he formulated. His body becomes bruised with numerous nicks and gashes that eventually exacerbate from several rams, releasing his ice blade while mid-air as he barked out blood. Coated with the freezing, white snow, his face is brimmed with his own blood that, to the Radio Demon, he beautifully spatters the snow with.

Eloah, no longer baring the egotistical smirk he once dressed over his lips and resting prone, groomed a frightening expression as he overlooked the deer demon with hazy vision as it then became clear. The small peculiar sticks on his head formed to a height of forty inches, his antlers bifurcating to an empire of disparity. His torso and limbs seemed to have stretched and lengthen, his hands extending over basic proportions, and the ends of his tailcoat expanding with a substantial increase of his height and legs. Eloah captured the crunchy and what must be painful noises of his transformation, feeling it himself, yet, among the deer demon's bodily features, only two things instigated an unspeakable and forever memorable thought within him. His void-like eyes that streamed black substances over his hollow cheeks and his inhumanely deep, extensive smile with incredibly sharp teeth that were robust enough to yank your head off with one bite. Alastor postured ahead of him and had dropped his staff to the ground, raising his fists and twisting his fingers, as ominous symbols and a cacophony of radio static emitted from him, the main essence that constrained the fallen man's frame.

" **There is just one thing that seems to continue following, even from here** _ **, that I absolutely despise,**_ " He whispered in a deep and gruff voice as he calmly stamped to the man, his height illuminating over him while he trembled in great horror, pupils shrinking.  
  
  
  


" _**P̷̨̢̦͓̪͕͉̼̦͈͔͔͈̘̐̊͑̅e̸̡͓͔̙͈͕͓͇̾̓̄̍̓̉̓̆̇̔o̴̧̧̰̥̲̹͖̞̦̘͚͑̊̋́̓͋̅̓̀͝͝ͅp̶͔̳̐̈̈͒̽͠l̸̛̖̈̏͑̕e̸̝̜̠͋̅̒̂͌ ̵̡͖̤̥̰̪̥̰̳͍̄̍͆͜l̵̬̂́̂͛̄̉̈́̀̓͊͝͝ͅi̸̢̨̡̥̩̯͇͋͒̎̿͗̈́̑͜͝k̵͔̖̒͌̍̊͑̋́͛̾͑͘̕͠͠͝ȩ̷̻̣̮̝̒̀̊͛̈́̽̔͌̂̔̊̏̚͝͝ͅ ̴͎͓͉̪̝̿̋̄̊̇̃ͅy̷͔̳̬͑̇̀̋͌̚͘͝o̶̧̼̜̫͙͉̦̭̞͔̫̼̾̉͂́̈́̌́̚̕̚̚͝͝͠u̴̢̧͓͙͔͓̻͔̯̼͍͙͖͎̾̇̃̎̈́̅̔͆̓͘̚͝͠**_ "  
  
  
  


**────────────────────────────────────**   
  


Eloah had fainted from both exceeding terror and horror, the light in his eyes fading as he went loose, debilitated, and in glorious pain from the injuries he received. Once Alastor had noticed the efficacy of his actions, he swayed his head and shifted back to his normal appearance. He chortled mockingly, figuring which arms of the fainted man he needed to rip apart from his fangs, but he shouldn't kill him. Alastor flipped the man's body on his back, but so cautiously as if he carried an unspeakable disease, and viewed his right arm for a sight of a shard-like object intact. It indeed contained a fragment— on the forearm — pulsating as it embedded within his flesh, correlating to the profound veins that sprawled in every direction.

The satisfied deer demon fiercely ripped the possession from his arm, strings of thick blood—that he found repugnant even for him— and flesh still attached to the rear end of the fragment.

Immediately, there was a shift in the temperature, a volatile one, as it sprang from extreme coldness to a glowing ambivalence. The wind that ambushed the triad had quickly gone away as Alastor felt himself lose height, feeling the snow underneath his boots disappear.

"A-al?" Charlie called out to him, trembling as she gawked at the unconscious man while holding Hazel's still limp body she collected mid-battle. "are you okay?" She didn't foresee him going this far, but she should have, seeing as it was the Radio Demon who didn't take kindly to strangers.

The once deep thick snow either began to subtly melt or vanish without warning, as seemingly, Hell, returned to the previous temperature from three days ago, settling on the continuous cycle of the seasons and weather that originated naturally.

Alastor's half-closed eyes, with his signature smile, roamed his sights across the robed girl, rubbing away the streak of blood near his chin.

"Has your strength returned, my dear? We have a few souls to take home and I'm afraid one would be our breakfast for today."


	2. Revelationious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hazel doesn't like Eloah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the spelling/grammar mistakes or certain plot-holes you may have found embedded in the story during the time frame, but do enjoy :)

  
  


Art by @Koto456 on Twitter.

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**HER BARE FEET LANGUIDLY** continued to tread footprints on the stiff and freezing white terrain that would only fade away from the falling colorless particles from the atmosphere. The soles of her feet, became numb to the snow within her first few hours of arriving in, Hell. As the snow fell, so did the minute and crimson-like color droplets from her right wrist that seemed to be absorbed by the ground, painting the white essence with a bright red, and disperse to an even bigger splash. No matter what, a faded string of red always seemed to follow behind her every step.

She tottered and tottered, tangled strings of her dirty blonde hair glued to her cheeks with moist as streams of dark pecan colored stains were gushing from her forehead, and down her once peach-colored and rejuvenated face that now rivaled the whiteness of the snow.

Every breath she inhaled and exhaled felt like a churning twist within her lungs, an acute pricking sensation that would become harder to suppress each minute, as an abysmal-like taste and coldness developed in her dry mouth and throat.

The amount of brain fog germinating in her thoughts arose and heightened— no longer able to mull rationally, even for her sake.

Her legs, brimmed with complete numbness, yet tranquility, were about to give up at any moment now, as the cuts and slashes engraved deep within her flesh had long subsided the agonizing pain they provoked, and now felt like a small burning sensation. Nevertheless, the fresh ingrains around the wrist made her almost immobile, losing the strength to oscillate such hand, as its enervation disseminated throughout her arm.

Her hazel eyes fluttered within every few minutes despite the prolonged and severe non-blinking she carried on for a while, just so, she can remind her body to support itself throughout her condition— to evoke itself that it hasn't completely fallen yet. And once she did, the seemingly-like frozen crystals residing over her eyelashes cracked and sank past her cheeks, followed by a continuous shatter in other areas of her frozen face.

The lack of strength did it for her soon enough.

She fell to her knees with a soft thump on the ground, eyes closing as the ends of her almost white eyelashes consumed her vision. The staggering amount of pressure laid on her shoulders abraded her stature in a surplus manner, too eager to gash phantom bricks that felt would slip past her acromion if she didn't foster herself enough.

Her torso slumped as the left side of her head, became vested with the snow and absolute coldness, her rear end protruding from her body while her arms dropped by her sides and chest rested over the knees. Her expression, if she had one, didn't falter either, and seemed unfazed of how smoothly her body yielded.

Certainly, Hazel has never felt so defeated before.

As her ears fizzled from the sheer coldness and packed with silence and throbbing from her interior body, a march of agile footsteps ahead of her became turbulent. Her senses were waning, but _his_ aura was too conspicuous, to just settle in the back of her mind.

She gently shifted her head forward, eyeballs squinting at the white figure that now stopped before her, and instantly locked with his eyes.

"E-eloa-ah..."

She barely even uttered his name, slurring on her words as her lips trembled.

His piercing stare hardened as he secured sights on her, his lips tugging upwards.

Even at her state and his, she admired the scenery in which he stature. Such as when the soft and delicate white droplets descended to his fluffy hair while she ignores, perhaps on purpose, the wounds spurting out from his arm that she hasn't seen before.

It felt like forever, staring at him, an interminable time, and waiting for the silence to break with her anguishing screams.

_**"Are you done lamenting now, angel?"** _

She still couldn't find any fault within him to waver the blame from her for this mayhem.

**──────────────────** **──────**

Angel's fingers gripped on a black marker, hovering it over the unconscious bandaged girl, adorning a fluffy crimson coat, who laid supine near the hotel's lit fireplace and tousled medkits which were adjacent to flattened gauze, and bandages.

Every spot he looked forward in marking over seemed to be only sheathed by several looped bandages, almost as if someone wheeled the gauze in numerous rotations—especially the face— yet her left eye and severely chapped lips exposed themselves as Angel previously tugged apart the bandages that sheathed such parts when he first settled on his plan.

Due to the number of follicles, the girl's hair spread out on the flooring, each curly strand dressed in grime and black streaks, veiling the vibrant yellowness it once radiated. Each of the bandages that gradually absorbed the bloody remains and capped in pressure for coagulated scabs on her skin enclosed nearly her whole frame, surrounding even the temples of her forehead, and down to the soles of her feet, absent from actual apparel.

Angel slightly inclined his feathery head towards her face, the smell of faint rust penetrating through his nostrils, as he squinted.

His sights trailed to her lips, cringing at the stark white lines full of inert skin that would peel off with the slightest pull.

"Geesh..." He whispered.

He had a few second thoughts, considering her state, but did anyone thought of his?

His hand quivered as he gently settled the tip of the marker against the border of her upper lip, operating with a slight reluctance.

"Quit bothering the dead kid."

He paused.

He shifted behind him, where the voice emitted, and locked eyes with the skinny anthropomorphic cat-like creature with bright red and black wings who sat behind the hotel's bar, his digits enveloping the waist of his bottle.

"What? Ya know how long it's been since I've had fun?! Three days! I fuckin' hate being in this shithole with nothin' else to do. Gimmie me a break, Husky." Angel extended his arms—his other pair resting on his pelvis— gesturing to the parlor room with a slight frown.

Husk's darkened eyes glared at him, his brows thrusting downwards as he weakly swayed a digit at him.

"The princess ain't gonna be happy about this shit, shithead. Neither will her devilish girlfriend."

"Aww, ya already made me a nickname? I didn-"

"Shut up already. Don't tell me I didn't warn ya."

Angel's lips pressed together in a slight pout, eyes darting somewhere else other than the cat.

"Ok, then."

He stirred back, browsing the girl's dolorous expression with a full simper.

Arranging the marker at its previous position, Angel's chest boiled with a refrainment of laughter while hanging a palm in front of his mouth. The more he thought about it, the more satisfied he thought he'd be.

He furthered the distance of the bandages around her mouth to the point where he encountered her slender nose that seemed perfectly fine and clean to him.

He first softly streamed a downward line on the left above her upper lip and curled it upwards. Then, repeated the same shape on the right side, and thickened both the lines with multiple streaks.

As the tip— seemingly smoothly—daub against the girl's pores with slight force and Angel's giggles augmented, her eye twitched, unnoticed by the sinner at hand, but otherwise for the cat behind him.

"You're gonna fucking wake her up— I ain't in the mood to hear the girls rant about this shit." Husk somewhat straightened his back—slightly tensed— harshly whispering while raising a brow, either in surprise for the amount of caring he's revealing or the amount of stupidity he found within the spider.

Angel curved his head towards him with a toothy smile, the peak of the marker remaining still on the girl's philtrum.

"I ain't. I know the fuck I'm doin'— I've done it before— just watch and listen. I ain't even done ye-"

He felt a chilling and stiff force grasp his wrist, and what felt like fingers tighten around his fragile bone. Angel's mischief smile dropped as he pivoted around, his eyes darting to his wrist where he now discovered that a hand, cloaked in bandages, had taken leverage on him. The girl's hand.

Husk quickly halted his retort and stared nonplussed at the spider's desist.

Angel continued browsing up, her lips opening wide a few times, almost as if she struggled to speak. His heart leaped a beat as he became mesmerized by her now freed eye, a reddish-brown color teeming her iris that released an unpleasant tangible feeling.

They both stared at each other, a flash of curiosity and fear staggering to their faces from one another.

Hazel held her breath as her senses, once overclouded by her muscule strains and gauzes, struck her. The more she stared at Angel's abnormal anatomy, black eye, and straight-out white skin that piqued a sense of familiarity, the higher her brow elevated, and her mouth swelled in wonderment and hysteria.

She skimmed down, scrutinizing the black marker Angel gripped on, and immediately scooted away from him, fully discharging her grip as she blew a violent blood-curdling scream that reverberated in echoes within the hotel.

Both Angel and Husk barricaded their ears, gritting their teeth.

"Calm the fuck down, toots. I ain't doin' anythin'!" Angel screeched as he backed away from her, inclining towards the grumpy feline who was ready to leave the area with his bottle in hand.

Hazel's breath hitched as she rapidly fluctuated her sights between the cat and spider, her lips tugging downward as she backed herself into one of the corners of the parlor room. Her heart raced as she began whimpering, muttering a few words of prayer while she gripped on the crimson coat, pressing the fabric close to her chest.

Angel cautiously skulked to the girl, dropping the marker to the solid ground, resulting in a loud thump that disrupted the girl's train of thought.

"Hey, look, I don't have anythin', toots. Ya don't have a reason to be scared, just-"

She screeched again, liquid brimming her tears that threatened to pour with every sound she shot.

"ELOAH!" Hazel called, steadily sliding against the wall to the floor as her eyes pinched, a swelling amount of pain penetrating her head.

Husk gripped his beer, and jumped from his sturdy seat, proceeding to swagger to the staircase and past the spider.

"Fuck this, I'm out. Don't bother blamin' this shit on me. You fuckin' terrified the poor girl."

Angel pouted, clawing at his skin as he rested a hand over his forearm.

"Come on, Husky. I thought we'd be a tea-"

The moment Husk stepped on the first tread of the staircase leading up, a mix of fast and blatant footsteps, calling, and faint radio static that his big ears detected, abrupted midway through their banter, clamping down the same staircase as the room saturated with intense cries and wailing.

He halted his gulp, and viewed forward, seeing a white-haired man dressed in a robe he hasn't ever seen in his life before with the most troubled and desperate face he's ever discerned on a person, much less on who he assumed was a demon.

The man's legs sporadically descended on each tread, droplets sliding down his forehead as he shook his head vigorously.

"Wait, no, come back!" Charlie, dressed in her normal business attire, suddenly appeared in front of the top of the staircase with a frustrated Vaggie who was still bearing her snow clothing, calling out to the man as she reached a hand to him.

As he disregarded her and the instant he stamped into the parlor room, the white-haired man surveyed the interior, gripping his fists tightly as he as well ignored the spider and cat.

Eloah heard her cries and wails, and so, he came.

"Hazel!?"

He gulped.

"Eloah?"

Almost in a flash, his head shifted to the left corner of the room, his eyes laying on the disheveled and disturbed girl who began posturing up at the sight of him.

Her scleras were terrifyingly tinted red as a stream of crimson spread through her cheeks while mucus began dripping from her petite nose. Hazel's excessively creased brows relaxed slightly, her tears pausing as she stared at his tense figure, dressed in the clear and white robe he always adorned, free from stains or anything grimy. Yet, what most perplexed the two on top was the absence of evidence of the Radio demon's beating in the snow. His body deviated away from scars, bruises, and gashes that would have remained engraved on his body.

Amidst the fog in his brain, confusion smeared across Eloah's face at the evident mustache drew on her philtrum, seemingly unbeknownst to her.

Her legs suddenly sprinted towards him, the long hair behind her billowing from speed as she unfolded her arms and dumped the coat she shoved her face in moments ago to the floor.

"Eloah!" She shouted, a small smile spreading on her lips.

His heart rate swiftly lessened as his arms, subconsciously widened back at her, his eyeballs sealing to the warming and soft memorable hug she'd always given him.

However, a cold and sturdy force took hold of him instead.

His back then crashed against one of the wooden, dingy pillars of the hallway staircase—his figure threatening to sway on the ground— an incredible tight grasp around his neck that immediately paused his breathing as the same empty and cold feeling in his body that he thought would vanish within mere seconds of Hazel's hug prevailed.

Hazel squealed, her tears resuming to wet her cheeks and practically flow a current in the room, her gauze already tumbling itself from her face's moist and, surprisingly, adhered surface.

Eloah opened his eyeballs, harsh radio static noises brimming his ears with tingles, and him, crushed with fear, as he locked gaze with the Radio Demon who suddenly transmuted in front of him. He first descried the same big tedious smile he captured before fainting back in the snow, only less aggressive, and the red mocking eyes of his that he only found to be plaster of fake chivalry, and filled with swirling madness and lust to murder.

Charlie demurred Alastor to stop in her command, yet, he continued, pretending he didn't hear.

Alastor's sharp nails pricked against the skin of Eloah's neck, slowly tugging deep into his flesh and clutching tighter.

Eloah stood in anxiety, his arms now resting against his sides as he didn't even bother struggling against his grasp, enabling his breath to deplete before him, and fixated on Hazel's fragile state in his peripheral state.

"Quite the character you are, my good sir!" Alastor chortled, a bright smile supplanting the murderous gaze and wicked grin he had. "I didn't even consider you'd rip through those tentacles! Well, aren't you just full of surprises?"

Soft and small punches struck the right side of Alastor's waist, followed by a weak tug of his clothing. He froze, a series of burning sensations coursing through his body as if he was on fire.

His sights wavered beneath him, viewing the top of Hazel's head, her blonde hair flowing endlessly on the ground—her ruining his coat with her tears and mucus as she pressed her head to his side.

He only thought of her as a pathetic mess he can augment on the side as a treat, yet in the sight of her, an unspeakable urge dredged itself to him.

"Leave him alone!"

He really found deep pity for them, lost souls in lost cases. No different from him in a way.

"Ever heard of the five-feet rule, dear?" He freed his grip on Eloah, and softly separated Hazel from his figure with a simple wide smile, a flash of familiar tingling sensations spreading throughout his body as he captured the sight of her gauze beginning to slip down around her neck.

Maybe he hasn't lost complete interest.

She gritted her teeth at him, a twitching frown laying on her face, as she shifted to Eloah, who gasped for air, and held his throat, coughing.

Alastor smugged at the black curly lines on her lips before she pivoted, uplifting a brow at the amusing sight.

"Eloah!"

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and unlike the man behind her, softly and lightly, as he responded by snuggling his head in her shoulder in silence, hugging so hard as if she would fly away if he let go.

Most certainly, the coldness that shrouded him vanished into a corner of the room, distant from him, but waiting to take hostage of him once the situation presents itself again.

"Should we really be letting this—this dangerous-sinner-who-could-potentially-destroy-all-of-Hell loose?" Vaggie grumbled, proceeding to gait down the staircase with a hand on the pelvis, as Charlie, still troubled from seconds ago, rubbed her shoulders as they grouped up with the others. She began whispering. "He's worse, than the Radio demon."

"It's fine, Vaggie. He was just scared, but the girl's here now so he should be... _less troubling_. Wouldn't you be if you were in his place?"

"Scared?! But he punched me!" She gestured to him, scowling, yet stupefied by the change of behavior once he joined the girl, bracing each other like there was no tomorrow.

"Wouldn't you have also?"

Vaggie stayed silent, as, the more she gazed at them, the softer her eye grew as she realized _maybe_ she would have done the same. "again, she's awake now, and she..." Charlie trailed off as Hazel released her hug with Eloah, the gauze around her mouth dropping—the mustache drawn on her philtrum fully exposed for everyone to see.

Angel had long disappeared, surreptitiously wandered away, and hid behind the bar seat, struggling to contain his laughter amidst the chaos as he typed on his phone, took a picture of himself, and posted it on his social media, small tears escaping his eyes.

"The spider did it." Husk bluntly stated, remaining on the first tread of the staircase, spectating, and nonchalantly gulped on his drink, resuming his steps up the stairs for peace.

Angel immediately peeked his head from the counter, gripping on the platform as he gazed at Husk's back.

"Husk!"

Yet, the moment he spotted the moth demon who he believes to be the downgraded version of the devil, himself, he cursed under his breath.

"Angel." Vaggie frowned.

Meantime, Eloah had rolled off the gauze from Hazel's face, rotating the bandages in reverse leisurely as his eyes, containing a deep-set of admiration and passion, locked with her glassy and mellow eyes while the wraps sank to the floor with soft thumps.

He was utterly shocked, not just because of how terribly drawn the mustache was, but of the scars and scratches, he inflicted not that long ago, were gone, along with the rains of dried blood, as her peachy colored skin returned, far from the white and shivering face he examined so many times in the snow.

He motioned a thumb in circles on her cheek, oscillating his sights to her lush and pink lips, the black dot underneath her left eye that she cursed daily, the rich, and innocent hazel eyes she'd give him, and the long healthy blonde locks he'd give everything to touch forever.

"Are you okay? Do you remember what happened?" He shook her shoulders lightly, a frown overcoming his gleeful smile as the memories of the entirety of three days ago invaded his mind.

Honestly, he hoped she didn't remember anything nor felt anything, much to his selfishness.

Yet, instantly, she answered.

"I-I had a dream. I was tired and bloody, and you were in front of me, in a little blood, but it was strange!"

The color in his face drained, and his muscles tensed.

"H-how?"

"I didn't have my beads, and it was awfully snowing a lot. Do tell this is also a dream," She inclined her head to his ears, her eyes darting behind her, viewing the white-haired girl retrieve the spider from the bar in anger, and the deer demon and blonde-haired girl conversing and watching. She began whispering. "I don't want to explain to Michael why I was dreaming of demons as well. Yours is enough to send me back for therapy, Eloah. You know how much I despise God's therapy." She pleaded to him, gripping his clothing as the last tear she thought she'd give out for today, at least, jumped from her eye.

"Hazel, listen. I-I, didn't mean for any of this to happen, it was a dumb mistake."

She sealed herself back into his black pupils, raising a brow.

Her grip tightened.

"What do you mean? We're friends, you could tell me!"

His eyes trailed away from her worried gaze, looking at anywhere, but her. Upset at his actions, yet equally, if not, shamefully upset at something else she just said.

"You haven't been dreaming. I did hurt you, _somewhat,_ and I-"

Vaggie propelled from the bar desk, raising her head as she held a tight lock hold on a screaming Angel, facing Eloah.

"Somewhat?! We had to waste several medkits on her injuries! Don't lie to her." Her brows furrowed at him, remaining to hold Angel in a lock and sway him to the other side of the bar's counter.

Hazel's pleading grasp departed from Eloah, her lips unfolding as her legs began quivering, chills sprinting down her back.

"Y-you're lying," She gripped on her hair, pulling her strands into straight rectangle shapes. Her voice became small and cracked, on the brink of crying once more as her chest heaved heavily, falling on her knees. "You did those things to me? You're supposed to be my protector! Not hurt me..."

Eloah's heart dreaded with pain and heartache, hearing the shivering of her incredulous tone of voice filled with terror.

Vaggie slightly loosened her lock on Angel, glimpsing at the girl's fragile state in pity, as the others stood in silence.

"I wasn't in control! This, this!" Eloah gestured his arms wide open to the hotel in defense. " _wretched_ place possessed me when I was protecting you from demons who were about to attack us. I-I grabbed a bead of yours, and you know the rest...I did not want to hurt you!"

She stayed withdrawn, her eyes twitching uncontrollably as phantom strikes and punches pierced through her body.

Eloah kneeled to her, placing a hand on her shoulder reluctantly, to which she scooted away while idly browsing behind her.

He jolted, biting his lip.

"I tried stopping myself by hurting myself. Just know, you never did anything to me. Trust me when I say I didn't want to hurt you at all." He rustled to her, his voice shattering through every vowel as his throat felt as if it became lodged with something, struggling to speak.

A blank face overcame her unsettled expression, reminiscing through all the memories that she thought were dreams as her utopia world germinated a small crack in the middle.

"Did you really make the snow happen?" She inquired and gulped, her voice laced with a tone of bitterness.

"Y-yes."

"How many of the damned did you ruthlessly slaughtered?"

Eloah raised a brow, surprised by her sudden change of view of the damned.

"I—I don't know."

"And you shattered my—my b-beads?" Eagerly, she questioned, holding her breath and shutting her eyes as she hoped for at least, _that_ , would be a fraudulent memory, gradually shifting her head to him,

Her whole body twitched and swayed, threatening to completely collapse on the floor as the shimmering from her eyes depleted, silence filling her ears. The corners of her brows furrowed, absorbing Eloah's small humph of a 'yes' that followed moments ago after locking eyes with him, frozen.

"The r-remnant I had became tainted as well, but don't worry! It's only a lit-"

The sound of a heavy slap resounded through the walls of the parlor room— a bright red handprint ironed against the surface of Eloah's left cheek, the mark emanating a burning sensation as he subconsciously flexed his jaw, facing the bar, nonplussed.

Hazel stood up, balling her fists.

Alastor, being the arrogant and manipulative man he is, had already formed a plan for the fools in front of him, his smile blossoming at the entertainment they already brought, yet he couldn't comprehend how _much_ they caught his interest, and how lovely it was to him, seeing them break each other.

"S-shattered and tainted?! You big dope! You just jeopardized my state in Heaven! You know how long I've worked to get up top!? Eighty years, you upstage mark!" She slouched down and screamed at his face, bits of saliva escaping her mouth as light streams of tears flowed down her cheeks.

"Heaven?" Charlie immediately piqued in with great interest, cuffing her hands together, yet the more she thought about it, the more she realized, or became _reminded_ of the two people's identities in front of her. The smile on her lips became fugacious, a blank expression resting instead.

Vaggie, noticing Angel attempting to slip away from the scene, grabbed him into another lock hold he struggled to fight through, and scolding him, the mentioned word of "heaven" promptly leaving her mind.

"N-no, Hazel. We can fix this. The snow's gone, and you have the rest of the fragments in your robe, everything's dandy! We just need to explain this to them!" He then stood up, begging, gesticulating above him as he completely overlooked her slap and visible anger.

Charlie nibbled her lip, slightly squinting, unease.

"Oh, um, we actually, uh...." Both of the foreigners' heads shifted to Charlie, scratching the back of her head as she solemnly glanced at them. " _Threw away_ your robe. It was beyond repair. Sorry, we didn't know there were any pockets..."

Hazel resumed her lounging, dead-eyes supplanting the vivid eyeballs Eloah wished that would remain forever. Hope in her quickly threw itself away as a stygian shower of emptiness loomed over her.

She planted a hand over her forehead in distress, her tears stagnating as she sniffed, her nose clogged with mucus, and began breathing through her mouth, struggling to rejuvenate through the immense and horrible grasps the pain took on her brain.

"I-I can't even look at you now. You hurt me and ruined _everything_ that I worked so hard for. I was wrong about you. So wrong..."

Her voice dawdled on, beginning to stride towards the corner she wept at, and picked the crimson coat she left on the ground, locking eyes with the deer demon— spectating with the biggest grin she has ever seen in her life. She wandered to the Radio Demon with a smile she tried so hard to muster up, only revealing a frown.

Her body was going to give up at any moment now, once again.

Eloah, oscillating his sights between the two, began to stroll to them, reaching out a hand that he planned to rest on Hazel's shoulder.

"I-I didn't mean to, Hazel. Please listen to me, _we_ , can fix this-"

Even before the tip of his fingers could rest on her bandaged shoulder, she jolted and hurriedly shifted in front of Alastor, shouting an utterance full of disgust.

"Don't ever touch me! Leave me alone." She huffed and puffed, glaring at the person she knew she still cared for, but this bitter feeling that pulsed through her began to surmount the original feelings she once had.

Eloah gnawed at his upper lip, pricking his skin with his abrasive teeth, and scattered his sights to the man behind her, red symbols germinating around Alastor as he eyed like a predator, radio static increasing in volume.

While it appeared that Alastor's enormous smile was lengthening in jubilance, his brows, turned incredibly down.

"You heard the woman, good sir. Off, you go!"

With that, Eloah begrudgingly left, creating distance from Hazel, and the man he knew he would always hate with every fiber of his body. He leaned against a wall far from everyone, arching his leg and planting his foot against it, folding his arms while glaring a beam of hatred towards the Radio Demon. He cursed under his breath, and with whatever he stated, were obviously directed to the deer demon, tinctures of animosity encasing his tone of voice.

Meanwhile, Alastor had innocently cocked his head to the left, his lethal gaze vanishing, and wavered his sights between Hazel, who shifted around to face him, and her hand that gripped on his coat, reaching out to him. Her dull eyes that spoke nothing, but sorrows and betrayal became beguiling and satisfying for him, the very thing he craved to see in poor souls whose hearts shattered due to another. 

It was tempting, him wondering if he could do anything that could exacerbate her pain, yet he couldn't help, but hold some _extreme_ pity for her that refrained himself from doing so, feeling a bit of sense of an unfitting contradiction within himself among the other hypocrisy he's revealed to others. 

Brave as others may consider Hazel for approaching the Radio Demon with ease, she felt intimidated by his large, smile, veiling his true intentions, and the massive spiked teeth he adorned for everyone in Hell to gaze in fear. She was no different, even if she tried her hardest not to tremble in his sight.

"E-even if you're a demon," She lowered her gaze, her pupils wandering out of sight of him, but as she caught a change in his smile in her peripheral vision, she locked eyes with him. His smile had lengthened even more. "a scary one at that, I'm thankful you helped, unlike _someone_."

Having spectated with the greatest, interest at the two, Eloah shifted his head to the right and rubbed his red cheek, brushing away the humiliation and demeaning pricks and needles that endlessly tugged at him for as long as he became reminded of _this_ situation.

Alastor instantly slapped a hand on his face, shutting his eyes and laughing, robustly, while cracking his fingers.

Hazel raised a brow in concern and jolted, fixating her sights on the new, yet familiar humility he radiated.

"Oh dear, you should keep such filthy coat! Without it, you'll appear less than modest, but _don't thank me yet_ ," Her brow heightened, even more, absorbing the malice tone wrapped around his words. "have you also viewed yourself in the mirror yet? Why, you look absolutely silly!" He snapped his fingers, and a small mirror germinated in the air near him. He grabbed the handle and showcased her reflection, awaiting her reaction that he knew, so far, would always amuse him.

She gasped, scrunching her nose as she stared intently at the black lines over her lip, rubbing her slender fingers over the drawn mustache that resulted in a worse appearance, smeared black vague dashes overflowing her philtrum.

"Is this why you smiled?" She mindlessly questioned, but quickly shifted Eloah, creasing her brows. "Of course, you didn't bother to tell me about this. Unbelievable."

Eloah's head inclined lower, his face out of sight.

Hazel hunkered on a red sofa with sharp spikes near the fireplace, slightly dropping her head as she sighed, leaving the coat on her lap while locating all the memories from these past three days, and reliving through them.

Eloah proceeded to sit on a chair laid on the opposite side of the sofa in stress, attempting to catch her attention and make funny faces she loved him doing once he saw she left the strawberry demon, but Hazel never glanced up, and if she did, it wouldn't be at him. Their arguments haven't been this bad, and she'd always look at him and stretch her lips up which he anticipated, but this was the first time, she obviously didn't even want to stay in the same room as him.

Thick and depressing the atmosphere was, there existed only one spirit that could mitigate its levels and blubber in the optimistic attitude they always shared with others.

Charlie gripped her fists, pouting as she wavered her sights between Eloah, still struggling to get the girl's attention, and the girl, herself, resting in tranquility.

"I'm going to do it." She whispered, proceeding to make a step forward, but a force grasped her shoulder, her head tilting behind her.

"No, hun, leave them be," Vaggie's hand propped on her shoulder, a worried and nervous expression resting on her face, as Angel, huffing and puffing for air, leaned against the bar's counter. "and you, go read the book now!"

"All just because of a silly ass prank? Ya kiddin' me?" Angel traversed his arms and rolled his eyes, blowing a piece of his tuft hair to the side that overclouded his vision. "by the way, ya might wanna do the choking harder next time, I-"

Vaggie retrieved the bible from the floor that Angel previously kicked to the bar's side, and launched it to him with no hesitation.

"Shut up!"

Meanwhile, Charlie silently strode to Hazel, fidgeting around her fingers, with the company of Alastor, who wanted no more than to continue browsing the disparity and lack of light brimming Hazel's face.

They both knew what occurred behind the curtains of their beloved stage, but their tendency to act on what would be the aptest choice in their situation, had died down.

"Hey, so, um. I'm Charlie, and I..." Vaggie, having noticed, vigorously waved at Charlie and shook her head, signifying her to stop. Charlie raised a brow, biting her lip as she pondered. "I want to help you with this situation of yours, and get to the bottom of what's been happening, so please, let us aid you and this friend of y-"

Hazel raised her head, gritting her teeth, as loud static noises rumbled her sensitive ears, viewing the prolix smile of the deer demon in the corner of her eye.

"He is not my friend. Not anymore."

She lightly chattered on her nails, her brows creasing upwards at the depressing sight of the man resting on the chair staring at the ceiling.

"Well, _him_ , but please tell us what's happening, Hazel, and we can work together to help you through all of this. I especially need something to explain all of this to my people-"

She squinted.

"Your people?" A tint of disgust wrapped around her voice.

"Y-yes, and I can contact my dad to help sort out everything," She brought out her phone from her pocket, signing through her pink device, chuckling nervously. "if he answers, of course."

Hazel shook her head.

"I'm not following-"

"She's Lucifer's daughter? The next heir to the throne? You get?" Vaggie clarified, planting a hand on her hips and moving her way to them, leaving Angel to enter his room with the bible in hand, but only going towards his full trashcan.

Awestruck in panic, Hazel examined Charlie's features, scrutinizing the bright red circles on her cheeks, and the lavishing golden lockets that reminded her of the archangels'.

How was she supposed to know?

The mention of _the_ fallen angels and their off springs were considered taboo, and if one had referenced it, immediate precautions would have taken place towards the individual.

She struggled to speak, muttering incoherent words as she sought to utter a proper sentence. She, dare she feels it, felt indifferent, too exhausted to care for Lucifer's daughter possibly, sending her to second death, yet Charlie only proved herself to be one of the genuine demons she's encountered thus far. However, no matter the amount of kindness she'd been showered with from demons and sinners alike within these three days, she thought of them as merely selfish and corrupting souls that only want to escape this fiery inferno and possibly wander to an even worse place than here.

"Oh." She merely stated, sniffing.

Would they confuse her for exterminators?

She had hidden her horns, appendages, and halo within her beads once she was in Hell, yet they were now smashed, and thrown away, and she had little-to-no knowledge of how to mend them anyway.

The small memory of her stolen fragment slipped away.

She really had no choice, but to depend on these mindless sinners and demons.

Oh, how it struck her pride.

She flashed a hand over her ears, a white curving horn with several cedar-colored lines trailing to the sharp end of it emerging, and soon, another horn developed, supplanting her other ear.

One of the three beside her was surprised. Incredibly nonplussed.

"I'm an ange—"

A swish of a long silver spear suddenly pointed at Hazel, wielded by Vaggie in fear, not needing to hear her whole sentence as the appearance of her features was enough. She scowled, her bare sharp teeth threatening her to make a move, as she tried so hard not to reveal her limbs, trembling, her spear wavering—losing its precision.

She long suspected they weren't ordinary sinners, somewhere near or farther than the Radio Demon's caliber, but being angels were out of the question for her. How were these robed people so elusive that they escaped media's attention, spanning as mere demons fighting for turf land?

Preparing to thrust the tip of the spear directly to Hazel's chest, Vaggie took hold of a protesting Charlie and pushed her behind.

"Stay the h-"

As quick as Vaggie was and the amount of determination she gripped on in protecting the girl behind her, Eloah was quicker, and almost seemingly had teleported to them, even if Hazel had trivialized the efficacy of his duty.

The weapon in her hand dropped with a loud clang, Eloah's hand, with sprawled and bulged veins, took leverage, and secured his grasp on her wrist.

" **Don't**. Do anything." He uttered, directing his threat to the moth demon, yet his eyeballs met the deer demon instead, standing behind the two girls. Him, once again being locked, in a despairing and painful void those crimson eyes always sent him to. The same eyes dared him to make another conflicting move, and Eloah, aware of what would happen, relinquished his grasp.

Was he scared of him and forever traumatized?

Oh, definitely.

But so was another, and she hated him for it.

**──────────────────** **──────────────────────────────**   
  



	3. Sagacious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor and Hazel have a nice conversation as Angel discovers intriguing information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy  
> Apologize for any errors, I don't proofread work really. :')

**RESTING ON HER** snowy bed blankets in a red towel and black undergarments, Hazel clenched her moist and straight strings of hair around her face, looping the strands into two separate braids as she hummed, her eyeballs closed, and body slight moving sideways.

She gradually opened her eyes, her vision embracing the silent and dark interior of her room as a silver, lit-up taper candle holder sat on her nightstand, barely illuminating enough light.

She spectated as the wax melt, dripping down its long circular shape as it amassed with other droplets at the bottom, the small fire threatening to burn out with every contact of a flick of sudden wind.

Her windows were sheathed by other red opaque towels, the low tension of the fabric hanging on the pole of sheer curtains, the room fully absorbed in a stygian void-like.

Hazel shifted to her left once she made braids that lengthened past her ribcage section, and glanced between a white, and off-shoulder dress Charlie had given her, and the old dirty piece of fabric that held the remaining shards of her shattered beads which took incredible amounts of pleading and patience to garner back.

Slugging, she peeled the skin of her lips, gazing at her chest, and idly browsing the faint gold linings of ordained arrayings that shaped her figure and halted at her breasts.

Clenching the small shoulder cuffs of her white dress, she rose from her bed, her towel slipping from her body and tumbling to the floor, cold sensations running down her back and soon, enclosing her whole body.

Hazel adorned the dress with ease, beginning to fold the dirty fabric of shards and rest them on the nightstand, adjacent to the candle.

Her bare feet stepped forward, retrieving the fallen towel from the floor, as her head gradually pivoted back to the bed, her eyes meeting the already blackened shard within the wrinkles of the bedsheets, almost thoroughly engulfed.

She snatched it without any second thought, and plastered her fingers around the sides of the taper candle holder, striding to the door as a tickle sensation girdled her hand.

Soon enough, the door was quickly shut behind her with a loud thump after she opened it, unaware of another entity that hid in the shadows of her room.

She nonchalantly stepped down the staircase of the parlor room, her callous eyes spotting the rest of the group conversing and seemingly waiting, interesting glares and words being thrown left and right by two certain males.

Charlie and Vaggie, now arraying a mini white dress with X's on her breasts and mismatched stockings— separate her paranoid thick, sweaters— chatted on the red sofa near the fireplace. Eloah stood near Alastor as they evidently bickered. Both the spider demon and cat had left the premises beforehand.

Imminently, Hazel muffled the vehemently asserted voices from the _boys_ , settling the candle on a random table in the room, as she sat on a chair near it, resting the towel on her lap— fully catching the attention of the individuals in the room.

Vaggie faced her, arms laminated, as her brows folded.

"Ready to tell us now? You got your shower and privacy. I think it's time for us to know the truth. We don't have a lot of time here. I'm sure you already heard about the second attempt of the speech in the city's plaza we're doing in a little. You know? The one you guys destroyed?"

Hazel remained silent, gazing at the interior as droplets of water slid down her strands of hair, directing towards her lap or the floor.

"Hello?"

She slightly raised her hand, her sights landing on Alastor's ruby eyes which swiftly became more than a friendly display, and towards an intimidating stare, static noises around him increasing.

Gulping, Hazel blinked away, straightening her back.

"What do you want to know?" She spoke.

"Everything. The snow, why people were dying suddenly—"

She bit the inner side of her cheek.

"It's gone. You don't need to worry about a second winter."

"It doesn't justify that we shouldn't know about this."

"Think of it as a miracle from God," Hazel dramatically gestured, pointing at the ceiling. "the snow originated from my beads. As for the sudden deaths, I have no explanation. It shouldn't have been that dangerous. Maybe your people were suffering from something else. I noticed a few demons wandering around when I was being chased, and they still lived. Assumingly."

"You don't even know?" Charlie intervened, stepping forward.

"No. Ask the traitor. He started all of this. Everything was in his command," Hazel continued, resting her cheek on a palm as she crossed her legs, a light yawn emerging from her mouth. Eloah flickered away from her, a hurt expression on his face. "what's this hotel even?"

Charlie's facial expression immediately lightened up, a warm smile on her lips, as she took a few more steps forward, clearing her throat.

"Would you want to know through a song?"

"No."

"Oh," Charlie slightly flinched, gazing down at the floor. "well, it's a redemption hotel for sinners as an alternative way to decrease the population instead of, you know— exterminations. Angel Dust is our guinea pig for this project. Do you think it will work?"

Dumbfounded, both Hazel and Eloah gawked at Charlie, raising a brow as confusion disseminated to their facial expressions.

"A redemption program?" Familiarity struck the two.

Strangely in a way, both of them felt connected to home, as a sudden burst of motivation surged within Charlie, her eyes sparkling.

"Yes! It's experimental, but we have guidance to reinforce this notion!" She gestured to Alastor, beginning to squeal. "along with a desk receptionist, and a cleaner-"

"You mean, a drunk, desk receptionist who's also a bartender," Vaggie grunted, planting a hand on her hips. "still doesn't even make sense."

"Your father is alright with you going down this path?" Hazel stood up from her seat, beginning to close the gap between her and Charlie as her mouth hung open.

To Hazel, it was curiosity, but to Charlie, those several, same judging eyes that always seemed to follow her as a child, surrounded her, draining the soft touch of Vaggie's hands and confidence within her down the toilet.

"No, but he did give me this hotel. My mother, partially helps me, when she isn't busy."

"How do you expect to get his help in this situation then?" Hazel promptly rejoined, folding her arms.

Charlie began fidgeting around with her fingers, trailing her sights to her.

"He'll listen—He'll have to listen. I know it's going to interfere with the balance here. Trust me. He doesn't like it shifting."

Suddenly, Eloah migrated towards Charlie and Vaggie, reaching a hand out to them. The moth demon squinted, pivoting more in front of her girlfriend as she scowled.

"Then we'll help." He suggested, a welcoming smile germinating on his lips, while he fastened eyes with the princess, scrutinizing the augmentation of light within her black pupils.

"What?" Charlie wasn't sure if she was just hearing things.

"We'll help with this hotel in any way we can as long as you help as well—"

"Eloah!" Hazel interrupted, furrowing her brows as she pitched her voice, yet he continued, making it one of the few instances he disobeyed her.

"—It's the least we can do before we leave and to show our appreciation for helping us earlier." He flexed his jaw, exchanging glances between the girls and his hand, anticipating an answer.

As chills streamed down his back, Eloah felt a cold, smooth surface grasp his straightened-out hand, Charlie's palm already in full contact with his tepid skin as he instinctively shook it.

"Deal! I can't wait to see what you guys have in store for us!" She suggested, an enormous amount of jubilance beginning to dredge itself through her voice, although, it didn't last long.

"No," Hazel spoke, louring at the man retrieving his hand from Charlie's grasp. "I don't want to spend God knows how long under a roof with demons."

Everyone peered at her, the three demons feeling slightly offended to an understandable degree, as Alastor's static noises increased, rumpling a brow at her.

"Nonsense. You've spent days longer in the same realm as us, _demons_. Why would it matter now?" He snickered and questioned, breaking from his silence, yet only end up receiving no response as Hazel flicked her sights away.

Eloah bit his lip, slightly idly nodding as he transversed his arms, directing his gaze towards Charlie. "Just leave her be. I know she won't cooperate, but I also know she'll do anything to get back." He muttered to Charlie, barely audible to Hazel as a sullen facial expression rested on her face behind her hair strands.

"A-alright. Well, we have to go get going now, even though we don't have a lot of information as we expected. Time to improvise!" She gripped her fists, taking a few deep breaths. "Alastor will be here to set the rules and foundation until we get back. It won't take that long. Just please don't do anything, just get comfortable. We'll talk after."

Vaggie tugged on Charlie's arm, inclining her head to the hallway entrance for a talk as she frowned. They both strode away from the others, Vaggie's hands once again planted on her shoulders.

"You are about this?" She overlooked behind her, squinting at the trio chat. "we still don't know their intentions. It sounds as if they know something, but don't want to tell us anything. I know they're lying about this snow fiasco. You do understand that _Eloah_ is the one we should be more worried about, right?"

Charlie tilted her head to the left, mustering a small pout as her eyelids lowered, brows crimping. Considering any detrimental activity from the foreigners was unfathomable to the princess, seemingly almost too difficult for her mind to comprehend. She still couldn't pass up on the golden chance of receiving actual angels' help, and dare she think it, which would certainly surpass the efforts of the Radio Demon, himself.

Secretly, Vaggie didn't know what she really felt, but hoped the foreigners would stay and put the deer demon in his place, expecting him to feel those _replaced_ feelings, just like he did to her.

"They don't seem like good friends anymore. Her attitude changed pretty quickly about him, but trust takes time, believe me," Determination swelled in Charlie's eyes. "it'll work out soon, just keep hoping!"

Vaggie lingered her stare at Charlie, feeling abrupt bricks plant themselves on her shoulders.

"Why would I make a deal with you?"

A pitched voice broke their thought, attracting both of their attention as they whirled back to the trio.

"A matter of interest, dear. Wouldn't you agree?"

Alastor had inclined his head towards Hazel's space, his terribly large smile in front of her shadowed expression as a hand of his reached out to her. Unnoticed by anybody, Eloah tightly gripped on a small sharpened wood piece he found in the halls of the hotel, hiding his occupied hand behind his back after retrieving it from his pockets, intently watching Alastor.

"Hey, hey! No deal-making here! We were gone for like a few seconds, and you have the audacity to ask people behind our backs?" Vaggie, taking notice, jumped in and swayed a finger at the deer demon, his head turning a 180-rotation to her with a small crack emitting from his neck, scrunching her nose.

"Please don't leave the building unless you have Alastor with you. We don't know if anybody else knows about your existence. Most likely, it's a no, but I'm sure you all will make good friends in the time being!" Charlie waved at them and raised her lightly toned voice, taking leverage on Vaggie's arm as they wandered to the exits, the moth demon scowling at the trio before leaving.

"Right. Good friends." Eloah subconsciously murmured under his breath.

Charlie unlatched the wide, wooden doors, passing through the threshold as they already produced a conversation of their own.

"Isn't she just a little daisy waiting to wither?" Alastor mindlessly chuckled, staring at the shut doors behind the duo.

Eloah silently ambled to Hazel, cupping his mouth area with curled hands as he began whispering, sternly gazing at the deer demon's back, her beginning to scoot away from his imminent touch.

"Should we leave—?"

Suddenly, a dusty, wooden broom advanced towards Eloah, its figure almost knocking him to the floor if he hadn't jolted and intuitively clenched its sides.

"Woah!"

Alastor cheekily grinned at him, his hands folded behind him as he strolled to him, his crimson eyeballs spectating him in a predatory way.

"What is this?" Eloah inquired, raising a brow as he browsed the withering wood of the broom's stick, its peeled wood pierce enough to scrape his delicate skin. He caught sight of bugs crawling near the hairs of the broom and a few words of an unknown language carved in the wood, instigating some questionable thoughts of the deer demon's insanity as he rumpled his nose.

"Oh!" He laughed. "Are you considering taking your deal back? You know takebacks are off-limits in deals. I should know."

"What?"

"Why, helping the hotel of course! You'll find a little cleaner around your rooms upstairs. You've met her within your first minutes here. Make the most of it." Alastor leaned against a table, gesturing.

Eloah shook his head.

"I think I'm good—"

"Great! Off you go!" Alastor began humming, shoving Eloah towards the staircase of the room as he idly stared, showcasing his sharp teeth as a threat.

The deer demon's head leaned forward to his shoulder, his half-lidded eyes staring down at the quivering face of Eloah's with turned brows, whispering the softest he can, but audible enough for him.

" ** _Listen to what you're told to do. I won't ask twice._** "

Eloah could have sworn he caught sight of a dark adumbration with a sinister smile in the dark corner of the room, squinting as his breath hitched.

Sheepishly, he slugged, still squinting as he reluctantly trudged up the stairs, slightly thrusting the broom away from his body, but not before sending a worried, and sorrowful glance towards Hazel who neglected his call.

He did say he'll help with the hotel.

The Radio Demon turned to the girl in the white dress, his hazardous smile preparing to emit the same, gravy voice Hazel had begun to despise, his transatlantic accent hardly easing her hatred.

"I'm not going to clean if that's what you're going to ask me." Hazel began tapping her nails on the table near her, shutting her eyes and resting her black shard on her lap.

"Is there a problem that I may mitigate, dear?" Alastor came closer to Hazel, proceeding to sit on a near chair, intersecting his legs and aligning his back, his intertwined hands relaxing on his lap. "you don't look too swell."

"Alastor, correct?" Hazel opened an eye.

"Correct."

"Aren't you the co-manager?"

"I more overly prefer to label it as a mere job of entertainment. Wouldn't you agree with all those pesky beings you're assigned over?"

"You don't believe in this, do you? You don't seem like the type to. "

He snorted, slapping a knee.

"In redemption? Why, that's funnier than the mustache that hung on your face! Quite utterly ridiculous. Tell me this, dear: can souls be redeemed? I reckon not."

Interest crept upon his face, even if he did his best to not show it.

"I rather not say," His curiosity had certainly skyrocketed, however. "try it out yourself, won't you?" Her half-lidded eyes eyed him as his dark circles rested beneath while his smile prolonged, Hazel receiving the grandest sight of what she thought were the sharpest and yellowest teeth in all of Hell.

"Now, why would I risk my whole reputation for something so absurd like that? Nevertheless, I, like many others, wouldn't dream of escaping this alluring _utopia_. How did you end up here?"

Hazel scrunched her nose, thinning her lips.

Her vexation grew the more as he spoke to her, yet she couldn't help, but feel the extreme warmth of his body pulling her towards him, phantom spots around the torso aching her to have the tranquil cold parts of her body disappear just as before in the snow.

She took a deep breath, readjusting her seat as the yearning for warmth suddenly disappeared as she remembered the rest of his subtle, shady actions.

"I've been meaning to ask you: when you rescued me, was that my blood on your chin?"

Little by little, Alastor's sharp smile lessened, uncandid within a glance, as his red eyes remained penetrating her.

"Blood? I don't recall," He leaned against his chair, placing his elbow on the chair's holder and resting his chin on his palm. "You seem to have made false memories. That's no good, dear! Now, you might go off and spat out random, bogus things." Alastor rose, his hands glued behind him.

Her pupils narrowed, erecting a brow.

"Bogus? I remember clearly th-"

"Maybe it was one of your dreams. Did you not misinterpret an event with your friend a-"

Her brows rumpled as she formed an incredibly small pout on her lips.

"He's not my friend! I wish you demons would listen, but you're all the same. How _surprising_." Hazel projected her voice, scoffing.

Alastor traced the inner side of his cheek with his tongue, his smile sealed, as he pricked his palm with his sharp fingers, bending towards her.

He loved entertainment with however he promoted it, yet, inadequate habits, as he says, fumed him to the fullest.

The corners of Hazel's brows furrowed, swiftly swapping glances between his wolfish, red eyes and a broad smile, black radio dials emerging within his optics as supernatural symbols surrounded him. Her small, hidden ears throbbing from sudden heavy radio static that glitched between moments.

"If you're to remain here for the time being it would be best **not** to interrupt me when I'm speaking," He deliberately planted his hands in front of her, his long fingers spread out on her table as he drew his face towards her. Almost as if subconsciously, his nails had crept up on one of her hands, pressuring the tips of them deep into her skin.

" **u͝ṅ̷̳̳̞̋̌͗̿̈́̋dë̶͉̯̞̖̟͎̙̱̮̥̥́rst̴̨̪̠̟̻͕͇̉͂̓̈́͛̽̂͌ͅà̴̡̛͎̥͎̬͈̄̒̋̿̃́̀͐͝nd dar̸̨͈͈͂l̵̡͖͍̘͕͚̱̘͓͓͙̞̀̂̚͜ͅͅinģ̷̳̜̱͖̹͆ ?** "

Immediately when he came closer, Hazel had recoiled, instinctively inclining herself back into her chair, sensing his nails pierce through the fabric of his gloves and dredge themselves into her flesh.

She winced, gawking as her pupils depreciated, yet, didn't make a sound as she hastily jumped from her seat, grasping the fresh, bright punctures on her hand, red fluids began plunging from the stabs.

The last thing on her mind was the black shard that also fell when she bounced, its corrupting aura fueling an invisible stench in the room.

" **Dlm'g vevi glfxs nv ztzrm** , you disgusting hypocrite piece of vermin!" Hazel snarled at him as her breath fastened, something in her triggering, other than the lengthening distaste for the man in front of her.

Alastor has heard all the wreckings, languages, and triggers of a vast amount of Hell's individuals and robust forces, all too aware of what makes them tick and their emitting. Yet, if he hadn't scouted for them, he would have bypassed Hazel's strange of words as a very rare malfunction of his enormous, ears, maybe even blame the mix of Hell's power, but he wasn't very gullible, and the mysterious language bothered him. So did the sense of the sudden piercing stabs on his body that seemed to have advanced after her unexpected words.

The Radio Demon remained in his slouched form against the table, his face, frozen, as the new smell roaming in the room invaded his nostrils, warm tingling sensations forming in his throat, as he felt the floor sway under him. He barricaded his eyes, heavily sighing as his smile stretched, releasing meager chuckles and tilting his head at her— his impromptu transformation stagnating.

A pounding ache palpitated in Hazel's brain as her heart had already begun racing, grasping a sense of familiarity emitting from the man as if she has done this before.

"Oh? My apologies. It seems that my thoughts have halted me. How unfortunate of you," He pivoted away, bringing his newly painted fingers to his mouth, sealing his eyes as he inhaled the alluring odor surrounding the specks of blood on the fabric of his gloves. "Go be a dear, and find yourself home in this hotel of ours. I'm sure you'll enjoy it as much as I do."

Pure fear and adrenaline mixed with blood as he stared hungrily across his victims couldn't satiate his thirst anymore.

He needed something more.

──────────────────────

Until recently, nobody knew when the winter that enclosed their dome would begin its downfall, or if it ever would, but when it did that particular day, it was certain that practically every resident hiding in close doors, escaped— harnessing their liberty after it had been a while.

Most neglected the notion of what had happened within these past few days, returning to their blissful drinking, severe gambling, and other indulgent activities present in Hell, especially what they could get their grubby hands on.

Yet, TV stations, newspaper organizations, and alike, have pressed on the matters both sinners and demons in all of the seven rings have been ignoring— the snow. It being a supernatural occurrence wouldn't have surprised them, yet the death connotation of being exposed did. Fortunately for them, they found ways to hinder the snow's efficacy and able to produce a relatively similar lifestyle as before during the time, even if it meant wandering outside.

The streets soon amassed with several individuals, roaming, and interacting with each other, yet one particular fellow was determined to make his first day outside worthwhile.

In his hot pink heels, Angel Dust ambled the clamorous and grim streets, seductively gaiting as he headed towards an abandoned building that had been fashioned into a club, adorned with neon lights and posters that would hopefully plaster a new reputation with their new sign— The Hooters Club.

He whisked away from the eyes that landed on him from every stranger with a salacious facial expression, blowing a sly kiss that almost dropped them to the ground in a daze. Every gaze that lingered around the black, tight dance skirt and bra draping on his fur body, he winked to, rolling his eyes as he adjusted his brown fur shoulder wrap merely for a show.

As he raised his head towards the broad, silver doors of the club, he planted a hand on his slender hips, grinning at the attempted carved words of insults embedded in the metal.

Just as Angel stepped over the threshold of the club, seconds after opening the doors, his whole body absorbed the hot, sexual atmosphere enveloping both the structure and residents, smelling the aromas he longed to be a part of— the mix of sweat, bodily fluids, and booze which saturate the dark voids in his life.

The smell was almost tangible, landing on his tongue as he absorbed the euphoric senses, his body becoming overloaded.

His ears began almost swelling from the booming EDM, or Electronic Dance Music, that been overplayed a few hours ago, as he eyed the attractive demons engaging with others, resting in each others' personal space.

The distinct sinners ranged from all kinds of hybrids and singular, and whether humanoid or deformed, or outright, a different entity, Angel was bound to get a piece of meat to take home.

The people who were near the entrance halted their chats and drinks, pivoting their heads to the opened doors, vigorous music, technicolor lights, and voices overfilling the ambivalence.

Once again, several sights were on him, both female and male, but this time, the owners laid hands over their mouths, their chests slightly raising and augmenting each second.

To Angel, it was a passionate and exploding sensation of having almost every single being in the room be enthralled by him, capturing their lustful and suggestive eyes, especially if ridicule was in the mix.

Angel proceeded to sit down on one of the stools of a crumbling bar stationed steps away from the gates, crossing his legs as he boosted his chest for the bartender, adorning a rather, suggestive expression, although, the person had their back facing him.

Nobody else sat at the bar, but him, and, dare he think it, he felt lonely, glancing at the empty stools to his left and right.

Promptly, the spider demon browsed TV screens positioned above him, his eyes lazily trailing to the news he didn't give a crap about. Even if he became interested, there would be no way he could have properly heard the sound even if it was on max volume, the turbulent noises emitting from the building itself overlapping.

The bartender, a hybrid demon of an owl and fox wearing raggedy clothing, pivoted around to him, immediately capturing his attention as a lit-up pink cigarette lingered within his mouth, a familiar brand on its figure that Angel adored, a pink, visible scent leaving its hole.

"What can I get for you, hot stuff?" He inquired.

"A vanilla cocktail— ya know that's my favorite ya sexy bastard," Angel winked, leaning his head towards him.

"It's on the house." The bartender nodded, grinning as he faced towards his sources, retrieving a cocktail glass with a few, visible smudges, and resting it in front of Angel before eagerly returning to assemble his drink.

Angel ogled the bartender, his eyelids lowering as sorts of fantasies ran through this mind, yet a series of raucous, feminine giggles intervened those, productive, as he would say, dreams.

He looked in the corner of his eyes, spotting four petite demonesses adorning tight and short dresses that revealed their most intimate parts, staring right at him. A beefy and incredibly tall demon dog sat behind them, wearing black glasses and disheveled clothing as the girls surrounded his lap and whole frame.

"You got shit about the guy, yet?" Raising a brow, Angel tapped his nails against the sturdy counter, glancing away.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but haven't heard anything since the snow that fucked us over three days ago." The bartender swiveled around, vigorously shaking a black cocktail shaker as he then dumped the liquid within the cocktail glass before inserting a small orange slice on the slide. The glass consisted of a thick, white liquid, slightly tinted yellow, as Angel silently licked his lips at the sight. "I've been tryna make end's meet, but you gotta do what you gotta do."

"Yer faster than before, Chris. Wonder what else ye improved on huh?" He took the glass, a galvanized smile on his lips, while swirling the drink around as he straightened his back.

Chris rolled his eyes, grinning as he leaned forward. "Maybe later tonight. Have a few shifts to do before my boss finds out about his bank account," Then a minute spark of interest inflamed within his black eyes. "Speaking of info, I got some other things you may wanna know." He planted his hands closer to him, his projection lowering as he leaned in much farther.

"Oh? Like what?" Angel positioned his cocktail drink near his lips, slowly sucking the liquid from the interior and gulping.

"I've been hearing there's an _angel or two_ roaming around the—"

Angel instantly ejected the liquid— his saliva intertwined with the liquid —from his mouth towards Chris who flinched fast enough to escape the droplets.

"...streets. You 'kay, Dusty?"

He coughed, attempting to reinvigorate himself as he took a few deep breaths.

"Y-yea. Just wonderin' if you put somethin' in my drink again." Angel nervously laughed.

"Damn. You caught me again. You always know, don't you?"

A soft, cold feeling crept up on Angel, his grin shrinking.

"Well, my guys already have bounty people on the lookout. You know how rich we could be with these bitches? Penis or vagina— doesn't matter. Most preferably a vagina though. "

"Ya really believe in that shit?" Angel barricaded his eyes, lowering down his glass as he tried his best to maintain his smile, feeling his body pulse.

"I saw it happen!" Chris hoisted his voice, replanting his hands harder than before as Angel mounted a brow "this guy snatched something from this girl at the park, on the left side of the Monto street lane, ran away, and suddenly he began transforming into some scary shit."

"You sure, you weren't high or anythin'?" Angel began gesticulating, gulping as he felt his body warmth diminish.

"Look, I got the photos to prove it!"

Angel's face settled frozen, widened eyes trailing towards Chris.

"What?"

Chris drew a phone from his pocket, a grin on his lips, arraying the phone underneath the counter— exposed for only Angel to see.

"I hid behind some bushes. If only I got some panties shot then I'd be fucking making some serious bank─ only from that too!"

The screen revealed a zoomed-in picture of a girl, ordained in white robes, lying supine as great, snow-like wings sprawled on the green vegetation of the park she rested in. In front of her stood a white-haired male, wearing similar clothing, crouched down.

Angel, in an act of hesitation, surreptitiously knocked down his drink, the liquid landing on the bartender's device screen, as small glitches and zaps of electricity began emitting after contact.

"What the fuck!" Chris loudly barked, although inaudible to others from the ruckus of the club, swiftly dropping his phone to the ground with a harsh thump as he raised his head to Angel, the screen of the electronic device shattering into bits.

"My bad. You know how clumsy I am, babe. How about I repay you later tonight?"

Angel was still shaken up, his limbs trembling as his heart raced, yet he was impressed with how calmly he seemed to have handled it.

"You just cost me loads of cash! The actual fuck." Chris's brows rumpled, his mouth dangling open.

"You deaf, or what? I'll take you somewhere nice tonight. Ain't that a treat?" Angel persisted in his offer, beginning to jump from his stool seat, as his heels clicked against the steel flooring of the building. "Anyway, I got some errands to do. See you later tonight, buttercup." He lightly grinned, moving his hips side-to-side.

"Later, dust." Chris lamented and sighed, had already begun smearing a rag against the wet counter.

" ** _._ _.._ _.._** "

Angel paused, his pupils minimizing as he enveloped his arms.

The bartender began murmuring something concerning that of the pictures and a person, _murmuring_ something that would have been too quiet for anyone to hear, but Angel─ he heard it perfectly, almost as if was meant for him to catch.

While he processed those words of Chris, the pitched giggles lingering in the back of his mind grew and grew─ He became undoubtedly conflicted.

Amid the smell of sex, vodka, loud music, and moans, he caught a confidential voice from somewhere, leading him away from his thoughts as his eyes landed on the hung TVs where the boring channels had skipped to a female news reporter, live at Pentagram City's plaza, pointing at two familiar individuals on a high platform in front of a mass group, construction noises creeping upon them from the background.

None other than the renowned, couple owning his hotel room of course.

Angel spotted both a nervous Charlie and a frustrated Vaggie, their voices overclouded by the robust energy of the club.

"I know the snow must have....together...Happy Hotel..."

Charlie's voice became almost muffled if it weren't for Angel growing closer to the TV, yet he still could only pick up a few words.

He winced as a tomato was launched by one of the audience members at their feet, descrying a Charlie on the brink of near tears as an angry Vaggie entered a fight with the thrower.

Glancing away, he continued sauntering towards the exit gates, leaving the aroma that became demolished for him as the sounds of faint snickers followed his steps before he left, curses and harsh words that he thought became accustomed to, pricking him harder than before.

Before he knew it, he found himself back on the dirty stool seat of the bar again.


End file.
